The Storm
by 44q
Summary: Buffy/Angel. AU, humans. A dark stranger in a storm comes along.


I was laying in bed, the cool air conditioner turned on, I snuggled under the covers, enjoying the constrast. Outside, the sky was dark, though it was almost noon now. And why was I still in bed? Well, being a writer ... I just wait for inspiration to decide when it wants to hit. In that case, if I dream something up at one in the morning, I am until until all of it has come out of me.

But that wasn't what kept me up last night. No, that had been frustration. Pure frustration. I had been kept up for hours just writing and deleting, rewritting and deleting some more. Then finally, after having stared at my computer and picturing what it might look like outside the front window, shattered glass scattered around it, its delicate wires and boards on the sidewalk, I decided I would just go on to bed. There I tossed and turned about until the wee hours of the morning. So when I had gotten up to take my sister to school, I'd only been asleep maybe an hour in total.

As I remained there in bed, my head tilted up on my favorite pillow, watching as the storm clouds danced across the sky through the window that was right above my bed, that same frustration from last night began to fill me all over again. Why couldn't things just come out the way that I wanted? I sometimes thought that the characters in my books or my other stories were alive, that they would just mock me at times, doing the exact opposite of what I wanted them to do. Or they would say things that were just so out of character, changing the entire story line. Yes, why could they all just not learn to behave?

The first lightening slice that cut through the sky seemed to land almost right outside the house. The thunder behind it was a low rumble, it made my dogs begin to bark, my heart start thumping. The sky grew even darker, the wind picking up, leaves blowing in it, rain was pelting down, huge drops hitting the ground in tiny explosions. As I rolled over, I could feel one kind of frustration changing to another in an instant and watched as the sky open up furiously and nature raged on.

Storms just have an effect on me. Whether it has to do with the electrical aspect, the wind, or the noise ... but whatever it is, it makes my heart begin to beat faster, my blood pump harder. I get a tingling in my nipples and a throbbing in my core that had me scooting towards the head of the large bed.

I open the window as wide as it will go, scooting my small body up until it is partially on the sill while still partially on my soft mattress. My body is naked, very warm from my time under the blankets, my breasts rosy in color, the nipples hard. With the window open, I can feel the wind blowing against my skin and the rain coming through the screen soaked me. I had a fine layer of goose flesh that just made me more aroused.

The storm was working up a frenzy and I could feel the bed under me getting soaked. But that didn't worry me, I would clean it up later. Right now I was more concerned about the fire that was starting in my blood, the deep itch of lust that seemed to form as a ball in my stomach. I leaned my head back against the window frame and closed my eyes, breathing deeply the smell of the storm. The fine hint of ozone, the smell of the rain and the plants around my window was tantalizing and wild. The thunder, rumbling and roaring, vibrated through me, sending off shock waves that had my system going haywire. I could feel the storm on my skin, taste it when I opened my mouth at a gasp of air. I could smell it, hear it deep into the core of me. I was outside the storm and it was in me.

My hands seemed to have minds of their own, running up and down my arms, over my neck, pushing my blonde hair that was just starting to get wet back from my face. I stared at the sky with half closed eyes as I stroked my thighs, caressed my stomach in waves of touch that grew harder and more desperate the wilder I felt. My nipples were taut and sensitive, pushing against the palms of my hands as I rotated them. It felt so good, every twist, stroke, tweak pulled on my womb. It felt like a string was connected, nipples to clitoris, every touch urging me on more, every move bringing me closer to joy.

My legs parted and then closed urgently almost desperate to feel something between them. The soft skin of my inner thighs, growing moister with more than rain water, longed to feel hard thighs, a face, a hand, something between them. I thought of a lover, a tall stranger standing outside in the rain, watching me touch myself, pleasure myself. I could almost see him, his cock hard as a rock in his jeans as he watched me. I wanted him to tear off the screen, pull me around and thrust into me until I was so full of him I'd scream.

Just that thought made me even more desperate. I could feel the need tightening deep inside of me, clenching hard, racing towards me but backing away just as I reached for it. My breath was coming in steamy pants, my skin so hot I thought the rain would dissolve and hiss as it touched my skin.

I touched my pussy lips, hairless and soft, dripping in need. I raised the finger to my lips, tasting my own erotic juices with a quiet hmmm of pleasure. I loved the taste, whether male or female, pleasure in it's most complete and scintillating form. The taste commanding, distinctive, the same but different for every person. Another large bolt of lightning and I hear a creak then a crash. It startles me for a second but I am too far gone into my haze of need to really pay much attention. My fingers reach down once more, touch, push aside and delve into flesh hot and moist, aching with the need to feel that pleasure, that burst of prickly pleasure that pulls at me so. Pushing a single finger inside of myself, I start to stroke my clit, gasping at the hardness and sensitivity of that tiny piece of flesh. It's so good, so right, but still something is missing.

My eyes open in a gasp as a hand wraps around my thigh and turns me, the screen on the ground, a dark form, cloaked in rain gear standing before me. His hand tangles in the damp strands of my hair as he clamps his mouth to mine, his tongue pushing past my lips and into my mouth. For a moment, I am too startled to resist. Too confused to know whether this is part of my fantasy or if this man is real.

Either way, his mouth is clever, rubbing mine, twisting my lips in ways that send heat cascading through me in waves as harsh as the rain around us. His tongue is wild in my mouth, finding mine, dancing and tangling with it until I am gasping and straining toward him, not against him. I can feel his body flush against mine, the rain gear he's wearing cold and rubbery against my skin. But then his hand is on my breast, large, tough and calloused. He squeezed the firm flesh, not so gently, causing me to gasp into his mouth. Then he started pulling on my nipple, twisting and tweaking as I had. But it wasn't the same. Where my hands caused need, his started a fire that quickly turned to inferno. His jean clad thighs were between my thighs and I pushed at them with my hips, trying to find a way to get closer, to be able to rub myself against him.

Little whimpers were coming from my mouth still held so firmly under his. His hand in my hair kept me locked to him, forcing the contact that I wouldn't have denied if he let me go. Right now, with the emotions roiling through my body, he'd have to peel me off of him. I couldn't have helped myself. I'd never felt this way before.

The wind picked up more, a surge of air that knocked his hood off. His dark wet hair dripped onto my face in another kind of caress that didn't cool my body at all, only made me more aware of every element. I could feel his arms, heavily muscled against my slim frame, the thickness of his chest under the slicker he wore, the hips that pressed so urgently against my own. I could feel the hard length of his cock under his jeans pressing against me in a way that denied and aroused but never appeased my need. And then I felt his hand between my thighs.

He pushed a single finger inside me, moaning against my straining lips. I knew what he felt, having had my fingers there. Heat, wetness, tight muscles and soft satiny flesh. Lips that clung to your fingers, begged at your hand in pulsating need. And when he slid another finger into me, stretching delicate flesh, driving me to delirium with the fullness I felt, I wrenched my mouth from his, arching backwards in his grip.

"Please..." I moaned the word, begged with that single word. My head thrashed, my hair whipping with the wildness of the wind and my emotions.

His thumb brushed against my clit, just barely touching the smooth hard pebbled node. I felt like someone had twisted my insides in a knot, coiling tighter and tighter until I was going to die if I didn't find relief soon.

He took advantage of my position, my head thrown back, neck arched, breasts thrusting against him. His mouth closed over one tight nipple, his teeth biting down just sharply enough to have me shuddering. Then he suckled, hard, pulling my nipple and as much of my breast into his mouth as he could. His thumb picked up the rhythm of his mouth against my clit and I cried out again as pleasure started to surge. My hips thrust against him, my hand tangled in his hair now to hold him to my desperate flesh.

"Not yet, baby," he said around my nipple in his mouth. He pulled away and looked down, his hand slowing, his moves frustrating me. He lifted one of my thighs, opening me wider, laying my leg against his shoulder as he stared down at the hand that was buried in my hot, aching pussy. He stroked it slowly, watching his two fingers disappear inside me, seeing the beauty of the naked lips, the wet folds of flesh, the pearl buttoned clitoris.

His other hand slid over my wet skin, smoothing a line down my body, over my heaving breasts, their nipples hard and pouting. Down my ribs and over my flat stomach. Stopping with his fingers outstretched right above my mound, holding me still as he played with me.

Pleas didn't work, demands fared the same. He was on his own agenda now and I was just along for the ride. I tried to touch him, and that one hand on my stomach would push a little harder, holding me to my bed. He didn't care that I was a mass of tingling nerve endings, that I wanted him inside of me so badly that I thought I'd die from it. Or about the storm that waged outside of us and screamed down upon us.

I quickly felt the rhythm of his fingers inside of me, the way they would hook just slightly, pressing in a way that had me gasping and trying to move. His hand held me still. My eyes were half closed, unseeing, as he drove me crazy, bringing me so close to orgasm then holding me back. I wanted him, a man I'd never seen before, more than I had wanted any man ever.

I cried out when I felt his hand leave my body. But then it was back only thicker, fuller. No, not his hand. He held my hips, guiding the head of his cock just inside my pussy, staring at me. When I looked back up at him, he thrust himself into me, huge, hard, making me feel like I'd split in two. I screamed, in pleasure, in pain, I didn't know. Both were so mixed inside of me I didn't know which was which. I could see him now, in the dim light. His eyes watching me, half closed as he took his own pleasure of my body. His features were hard, etched against the lightning flashes in grim relief, mouth pulled tight over his teeth in a grimace of pleasure.

He moved in me, stretching me more than I've ever been stretched, rubbing against sensitive skin that never had such attention paid to it. I could feel it, the pleasure swirling, starting in my loins that pumped hard against his as I dug my fingers in my wet sheets for purchase. It coiled deep, stealing my breath, blinding me to all but the joy about to come. His thumb touched my clit once more and I exploded around his hard cock, fisting him with my inner muscles, dragging at him tightly as I came. My body arched as the pleasure tore through it, implosions of electricity as sharp as that outside the window tearing through me.

I could hear his gasps and feel his body jerking, pushing against mine then the hot spurts of cum jetting into me as he ground his hips against me. His hands were on my thighs, dragging me against him with each jerk. Then he collapsed against me, his head resting on my stomach. I could feel the cold weight of his hair dripping against my hot skin, his lips opened as he gasped in the air that seemed so thick in the storm. His hand fell onto my breast, and he squeezed gently, lifting his head to kiss the tip of it, suckling it for a moment as I jerked against him, smiling at me even as he caught his breath. I could still feel him inside of me, my muscles clenched around him as if I didn't want him to leave. Who was I kidding, I didn't.

He pulled me up, kissed my mouth as he slowly pulled out of me. I could feel the mix of our spending dripping down the inside of my thighs as he sat me up, his arms wrapped gently around me now. He kissed me sweetly, gently. Then he pulled back and laid his head on my forehead. His brown eyes met mine.

"I needed to use your phone but when I saw you, what you were doing ... I couldn't stop myself." He kissed me again and then pulled away, standing with the rain, now falling gently, wetting his hair more. He did up his jeans and smiled at me, he blew me a kiss and turned and walked away.

I pulled my legs back inside and laid there on my wet bed, his cum drying on my thighs, pleasure still tingling in me and watched him walk off into the storm.


End file.
